


Pas de Duex

by gayshitiguess



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Ballet, Ballet Shoes - Freeform, Ballet!!, Did y’all know that peter is named after a ballerina?, Heist time ladies and bottoms, Hurt/Comfort, I actually didn’t use the Peter Nureyev alias generator, Injury, Look at me goooo!!!, M/M, Peter is a Little Shit, Pointe Shoes, Super pumped about that, There they go... theiven again, This shit is soooo fucking good, Unapologetic mispelling of French words, Y’all don’t know how happy I am about the season finale, and living my best life with my boy peter, dancing babeeeeyyyyyyy, no editing we die like men, this is basically me being nostalgic about my dance days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayshitiguess/pseuds/gayshitiguess
Summary: Juno found Peter sitting on the ground, his legs spread into a split so that he could bend over the materials in front of him. He was taking something spiked to the sole of a fresh pair of ballet shoes. His hair was pulled back out of his eyes, but a manufactured curl fell over his face. Juno could imagine him carefully crafting this messy, just-out-of-bed, disheveled-ballet-practice look in the mirror, taking the curling iron to his usually straight hair, applying the streaks of red that weren’t there when Juno had left but matched the leotard that hugged his figure so well. Tights slightly paler and pinker than his skin tone were rolled up to his ankles, to expose tape wrapped around his toes. He was absentmindedly pointing and flexing his toes as he worked. Peter looked up as he took the other shoe in his hands, wrapped one hand around the pretty, wooden toe, and the other around the silken heel, and cracked it in half with a loud sound that resembled bones breaking.“Ah, Juno,” His smile was unfairly brilliant, “you’re almost exactly on time.”





	Pas de Duex

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhhhh Buddy did that season finale really butter my egg roll. It was wonderful and I’m so freaking happy with the possibilities. This is a hypothetical situation. Mostly it’s an excuse to write the first scene of Peter fucking up his shoes since that’s what I’m doing right now. I really just love the mechanics of ballet and I think that Petey would be amazing at it. Please enjoy my bullshit.

Juno knew that there would be chaos in their room when he had left it for more than three hours.  _ Their _ room was perhaps a stretch. Nureyev always referred to it as his, and since Juno had promised to follow his lead on this, he really couldn’t refute. It wasn’t good for his fragile self worth, giving his awkward, pained apology and being told, in no kinder words, ‘ _ if you mean it, prove it,’  _ before being kicked out of Nureyev’s room. He could respect that. Nureyev needed space. Juno called him by whatever name he was using that week, respected that he no longer trusted him, and did his very best to earn that trust back. 

 

It was the third time that Juno pulled him back from the brink of death that Nureyev invited him into his room again. Beaten and bloodied, they hadn’t managed to get up to too much that night, just kissing lazily in the way that Juno had craved for so long, and curling up in Peter’s bed together. Juno made sure that he was there when Nureyev woke the next morning. 

 

Juno has spent the morning with Vespa, wrapping up the loose ends on their latest job. He had always told himself that Peter would make a great detective, but he had never considered how good of a thief  _ he _ would make. Vespa had, as with everyone, been suspicious of his abilities, but he had more than proven himself. They were friends, in a way, the two of them. Not like he was with Buddy or Rita, but friends all the same. She seemed to understand his side of things, regarding his tenuous relationship. She had of course, threatened to cut off all kinds of bits if he ever hurt Nureyev again. He assured her that she wouldn’t need to. Peter would beat her to it. 

 

Juno found Peter sitting on the ground, his legs spread into a split so that he could bend over the materials in front of him. He was taking something spiked to the sole of a fresh pair of ballet shoes. His hair was pulled back out of his eyes, but a manufactured curl fell over his face. Juno could imagine him carefully crafting this messy, just-out-of-bed, disheveled-ballet-practice look in the mirror, taking the curling iron to his usually straight hair, applying the streaks of red that weren’t there when Juno had left but matched the leotard that hugged his figure so well. Tights slightly paler and pinker than his skin tone were rolled up to his ankles, to expose tape wrapped around his toes. He was absentmindedly pointing and flexing his toes as he worked. Peter looked up as he took the other shoe in his hands, wrapped one hand around the pretty, wooden toe, and the other around the silken heel, and cracked it in half with a loud sound that resembled bones breaking. 

 

“Ah, Juno,” His smile was unfairly brilliant, “you’re almost exactly on time.” 

 

“You just bought those and now you’re destroying them.” 

 

“Yes,” he smiled again, something wicked in his grin, “don’t you know, my dear; you must destroy something perfect in order to make it beautiful.” He held the shoes like they truly were something beautiful, like they were any of the precious gems that he was heir to handling. “Besides, you must have learned about this from Benziten,” Juno had recently elected to share about his brother in more depth with Peter, mostly because he knew that Benten would have loved him. Ben was always so particular about the people that Juno brought home. He would always bristle about the ones that he didn’t approve of. To be completely fair, Juno tended to bring home truly nasty people, so, in retrospect, he couldn’t blame Ben for the judgement. Peter, though, Peter was someone that Ben would enjoy. He was genuinely kind, smart, and talented. Plus, his arabesque was absolutely perfect, and nothing mattered more to Benten than good form. 

 

“I tried to stay away from his ballet stuff,” Juno confessed, dipping down to press a kiss on Peter’s cheek. 

 

“Well, whatever the case,” Peter caught him by the collar and dragged him down for a proper kiss, almost throwing him off balance. “Once I finish with this shoe, I can show you what I’ve been working on.” 

 

“Why  _ are  _ you breaking out the old ballet stuff anyway?” Juno asked, “Not that I’m complaining, just curious.” Peter smirked and bashed the wooden toe of his shoe into the hard metal floor. 

 

“Buddy has a case that might need somebody to break into a ballet company,” Peter said, “Buddy and Vespa, as lovely and elegant as they both are, certainly aren’t ballerinas. Though I have learned not to assume anything about Jet’s abilities, I doubt that he would want to mingle with prima donnas for a few weeks. Rita has a very difficult time keeping a secret, so undercover work is out of the question, and you are, if you don’t mind me saying, absolutely terrible at dancing.” Juno laughed and plopped himself down on the couch that they’d picked up from an off the books “thrift shop” on Mercury. It was a very nice couch, red velvet, lining a golden frame. Very Peter, very loud. Juno had been half afraid that he would hurt it every time he sat down the first few weeks. “Besides, I happen to be very, very good at it.” 

 

Peter laid his shoes carefully out on the floor and spread his handkerchief over them. 

 

“Can I borrow your heavy boots for a moment,” he held his hand out to help Juno up from the couch. He stood with great reluctance and let Peter lead him to stand in front of the shoes. “Step on them, please.” Peter instructed. 

 

“Step on them?” Juno repeated. He looked down at those delicate, pink things, laying  under Peter’s white handkerchief. He was so afraid that he would ruin them. 

 

“Stomp on them, really,” Peter said, “Just the box, the toe. I need it crushed so that its mailable and I can move my toes.” Juno gave him a nervous look. “Really, you can’t mess it up, it's just stepping on it. And it's keeping my toes from shattering, so you’re helping.” Juno appreciated the encouragement without needing to ask for it. Peter kept Juno’s hands in his and guided him to step on the shoes. There was a moment where Juno was positive that he’d ruined the shoes as they cracked beneath his heels, but Peter smiled and laughed lightly, pulling him in for a quick kiss before he retrieved his handkerchief and shoes. “Perfect.” He said, sticking his fingers into the shoes and popping them back out to their pretty, rounded position. 

 

Juno watched with interest as Nureyev slowly seemed to deconstruct his shoes, only to pop them back into place, showing them in perfect working order. He had an older looking pair for reference laying among his many tools. They were grayed from use and had holes in the silky cloth that covered them. Juno remembered the pair of beaten up old pointe shoes that Benten used to wear. In all honesty, he had watched something like this happen before, but only the once. Ben had worn the same pair of pointe shoes for the entire time he had taken the classes. They had turned into placid, grey, depressing things. He had sewed new layers of pink fabric on top. 

 

Nureyev joined him on the couch as he pulled out a spool of pink thread and a large needle, beginning to sew the elastic and ribbons into the sides. His long, thin fingers moved with practice, and he would look away after he was sure that his needle was where he wanted it to be in favor of looking at Juno. When both shoes were done, he pressed a kiss to Juno’s lips and slipped the shoes on, bending them experimentally where he sat. As he stood, he moved not just to his feet, but onto his toes. Juno looked on with amazement as he moved on his toes across the floor. Nureyev’s right leg gave out, he fell to stand flat on his left foot, and he cursed, bending his right foot back and forth. 

 

“You okay?” Juno asked, probably still awash with astonishment. Peter smiled that too sharp smile and bent down to massage his knee. 

 

“Old injury,” Peter explained, “I was running from one drug lord or another and took a nasty fall. It just about tore my ACL clean through. It healed nicely, but it doesn’t always cooperate. Of course, as far as the Venusian Ballet knows, I threw it out during a rehearsal and had to be put on the injury list. A shame. Ninette Pavlov was such a wonderful dancer. He’ll get another chance, though, if Buddy’s plan goes through.” 

 

“Well, I can’t wait. Ninette better get practicing, though.” He smiled and watched as Nureyev feigned offense. 

 

“Ninette Pavlov is always ready for a performance!” He said, dramatically rising to his toes. 

 

“His balance has to be better than Nureyev’s,” Juno said, ready to duck for cover, “since he took that tumble the other week,” 

 

“It is nonsensical to put grates on city sidewalks! Surely I wasn’t the only person on Apollo Five who wears heels!” Juno laughed, and, after a moment more of maintaining his outrage, Nureyev joined him. 

 

It was easy, they way that they fit against each other. Juno swayed with Peter, leading them in an awkward waltz to bouncy, unsuited music. Nureyev leaned into him, bent his head down to rest on Juno’s shoulder. 

 

“Will you accompany me on this one, please?” Peter asked, running his hand along Juno’s back. 

 

“You said it yourself, I’m an awful dancer.” Juno smiled into Peter’s skin. 

 

“As a bodyguard perhaps? A manager? A protective lover?” Juno knew that he was only half joking and hummed. “I just have a feeling that I’ll want back up.” Juno nodded and kissed Nureyev’s jaw. 

 

“Of course,” he said, “are you going to be okay?” Peter pushed back, took both of Juno’s hands in his and spun them both around slowly. 

 

“Why of course, I will! I have Detective Juno Steel by my side!” His joking tone melted into sincerity, “I...” Juno didn’t interrupt through his hesitation. “I trust you.” He smiled. 

 

Juno moved forward and wrapped Peter up in a great hug, almost lifting him off of his feet, wooden toes brushing against the floor. Nureyev laughed and wrapped his arms around Juno’s neck. 

 

“Kind of,” he tacked on after Juno had set him down. Juno let himself laugh as Peter spun them around in circles, prettily balanced on his toes while Juno tripped over his own two feet. He let himself be wrapped up in Nureyev’s smell and sound and the feeling of the two of them pressed together. He could have stayed there forever. 

 

__

 

Ninette Pavlov was a wonderful dancer. He was graceful, delicate, and when he danced, Juno could  _ feel  _ it. Peter danced a little differently. He looked focused, precise, like he was calculating every movement. It was beautiful, no doubt, but when Ninette danced, he danced with emotion, he danced with passion. Juno could feel every movement his made deeply in his soul. 

 

Being a bodyguard for a prima ballerina was a much more demanding gig than Juno had thought it was. There were three other dancers that had bodyguards of their own, and the company itself had guards that patrolled the exterior of the building. It was heavy beef for ballet, but Juno soon understood why. It wasn’t people from the outside coming in that was the problem, it was the dancers themselves. 

 

Juno must have broken up seven fights in the first few hours of Ninette’s stay at The Royal Ballet Company. There were several ballets of the same name, but Earth’s was the first and the most exclusive. Even with Ninette’s reputation from the Venusian Ballet, he had to audition for the role and be cleared by a doctor to get off of the injury list. He was accepted to the ballet, not the main male lead, but a secondary character. It certainly wasn’t challenging to Ninette’s abilities, but, unlike Nureyev, he wasn’t a diva. Maybe the last dancer on Earth who didn’t care where he was put on stage, as long as he was. 

 

Buddy wanted them to case it for a few days, to at least stay through Ninette’s performance so that he wouldn’t be suspected. He was a useful persona and if they needed to do something like this again, they could maybe pull off another job or two before people started spotting the pattern and Peter had to throw him out. 

 

Juno leaned up against a wall backstage and watched Ninette through the curtains. He was wearing sweatpants and a crop top with a large, bouncing white tutu around his waist. His shoes were beginning to show their wear, grayed at the toes and beginning to soften. He twirled around and around on his toes, balanced by a tall, muscular woman that Juno was fighting not to be jealous of. 

 

Juno could claim all day that he wasn’t a jealous person, but watching Ninette cling to a shirtless Adonis while he was swung around a stage, he could feel the churning, acidic stuff building in his chest. 

 

Ninette caught his eye and seemed to understand. He lowered himself back down to his feet and patted the woman affectionately on the cheek, cutting their rehearsal short. 

 

“Darling, you really mustn’t get jealous over me now,” Ninette had the softest Venusian accept, Peter’s Brahman twing completely missing. He moved gracefully, gliding across the ground, his hips not so much popping out as slowly moving in circles, swishing back and forth, back and forth. Juno smiled softly. 

 

“The sight of you in the arms of a Herculean hunk isn’t necessarily my favorite thing.” Ninette smiled softly, ducking his head and blushing. Pavlov, he was a blusher, that was for sure. Shyer than Nureyev and less prone to overt sexuality. He gently wrapped his arms around Juno’s neck, drawing him in to what could be seen as just an affectionate hug. He leaned forward to whisper in Juno’s ear, all hints of Pavlov gone.

 

“You’re the only Herculean hunk that I’ve got eyes for.” Juno blushed and followed Ninette back to his dressing room. 

 

The plan was for Peter to steal the jewel unnoticed during his last performance and for them to leave the way that they normally did every night. Casual, collected, following a preset routine so that nobody would be too suspicious. The ruby set in some prop crown for a character that Juno couldn’t pronounce the name of was beautiful, imported from Galacta Prime, and priceless. Peter had had his eyes on it for a while and Buddy had agreed that, if they could get a pretty price for it, she’d facilitate. Juno had been happy to help, if only so that he could see Peter in skimpy leotards and tutus. 

 

The night before the last performance, Peter was soaking in the bathtub of their borrowed apartment. Juno had no idea how he had managed to lower his entire body into ice water, but if his body had been through half of the damage that Peter’s had in the past few days, he would want ice everywhere too. 

 

Nureyev wasn’t much of a complainer. Rex Glass was, but Nureyev was not. He was limping slightly as they walked back to their temporary home, and he ended up taking Juno’s arm to help him along. Peter’s feet were all but destroyed, bloody and bruised toes, blisters lining his heels, joints swelling. Juno’s heart broke for him. He could fix a broken bone or a black eye, but this was a hazard of the trade. Peter would have to deal with it and Juno wasn’t too happy about that. 

 

“Thought you might like some tea,” Juno balanced two mugs in his hands, pushing open the door to the bathroom with his hip. He heard Peter shift in the bathtub and sigh. 

 

“You’re an absolute darling,” Peter said, gratefully taking the tea and cupping it to his chest. He took a sip and melted. 

 

“Is it good?” It had taken Juno a few tries to get Peter’s specific blend of tea just right. He drank loose leaves mostly, but he had packed bags for convince. Juno had chosen the camomile that he drank in the evenings before bed. He stirred half a teaspoon of honey in and hoped that he got it right. Peter was a good sport about it and would usually drink about half of it before making himself another cup. 

 

“It’s perfect,” he said, cupping it between his hands. 

 

“You going to be alright?” Juno asked, tracing the bruise that lined his hip. 

 

“Of course I am,” Peter replied, taking another sip of tea, slipping on his Venusian accent “Pavlovs have been dancing for hundreds of years. I am built for this.” 

 

“I know that Ninette is okay, I was asking about Peter.” Juno said. Nureyev opened his eyes, a bit startled by the use of his first name. Juno said it all the time in his head, but out loud, it was always Nureyev, and never both at the same time. Peter smiled and reached up to tuck a curl out of Juno’s face. 

 

“I’ll be fine,” Peter said, really Peter this time, no accent or fake name, “mostly I’m excited about this ruby.” 

 

“You’re sure you can get it?” Juno asked. The shark lines of Peter’s body were covered in bruises, soft, blue and green things that danced across his sides where he’d taken tumbles, his knees where he’d been kneeling, his feet where he’d been standing. Juno wanted to kiss every single one of them. 

 

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” Peter sipped his tea again, smiling into the mug, “I’m the Angel of Brahma. You’ve never met a better thief, teen revolutionary, or prima ballerina.” Juno smiled and bent to kiss Peter’s forehead. 

 

“Just stick to the plan, Angel.” 

 

Peter laughed somewhere deep in his chest. 

 

__

 

The plan was for Peter to steal the jewel unnoticed during his last performance. Their plans rarely ever worked out. Really, Juno should have known that something would go wrong. He should have known that there would be somebody else gunning for the ruby and he should have known that they’d be willing to go through Peter for it. 

 

When Juno had asked where Peter had gotten the replacement ruby, he had simply said that he ‘had a guy.’ That tended to be his answer for almost everything. Even so, Juno was thoroughly convinced by the red glass replica that Peter had slipped into the crown. Peter had stuffed the real one in the pair of pointe shoes that he had first broken into and put it deep into his bag, guarded by Juno, ready to be retrieved and taken as soon as the performance was over. 

 

Juno was in his place backstage, Ninette Pavlov’s bright red dance bag sitting by his feet, watching as Ninette twirled around the stage. It was the third act, and they were almost done. Juno had been cool all week long, but now that they were an hour away from being done, he was beginning to feel the anxiety building. Right on que, Buddy’s voice crackled through his com’s earpiece. 

 

“Stay frosty, boys,” she said, “you’re almost clear. Let’s wrap this up pretty.” Juno sucked in a breathe and forced himself to calm down. Pavlov leapt into the air and landed perfectly, balanced by the Adonis woman’s hands on his waist. She lifted him up into the air and he wrapped his legs around her side, his arms stretching out to mimic a bird’s wings. Damn, he was something to behold. 

 

Juno watched the rest of the act, tracked Ninette’s movements, made sure that the bag was still at his feet every few seconds. Pavlov came off the stage smiling, sweating, red in the face, but beaming. The Adonis woman came behind him, patted his shoulder with affection. He returned it, hugged her from the side as they walked. 

 

It happened so fast that Juno could only watch. 

 

The woman’s grip on Ninette’s shoulder tightened. She kept him in place. Juno watched as he went for the knife taped to the small of his back, but she was faster. She grabbed a handful of his hair and drove her foot into his bad knee. Juno heard something pop and watched as Peter hit the ground, screaming despite his frighteningly high pain tolerance. 

 

He was moving before he could think better of it, he tackled the woman to the ground, pinned her beneath his knee, handcuffed her arms behind her back. 

 

“Juno, the bag!” Peter’s voice was thick with his Brahman accent, Ninette abandoned with his leg caved inward. Juno looked back to see a stage hand had swiped the bag in his distraction and was making for the stage door. Juno spared a glance back to Peter before he took off, tracking the black shirt over large build that was slipping into the darkness of the stage. Juno hadn’t run that fast in a while, but he pushed himself, forced his body to move faster than he should, and found himself bounding out of the Royal Opera House into the London chill. He didn’t have his coat, so he trusted his adrenaline to keep him from freezing up. 

 

He must have chased them for three blocks before he was able to catch up. The bright red bag was enough of a give away for Juno to track them, and they weren’t bright enough to lose him. Buddy had hired him for a reason, he was a very good PI and he was an even better thief. He managed to lead the stage hand into a back alley that blocked off. They cursed and turned to leave, but found themself facing the hot end of Juno’s blaster. 

 

“Drop the bag before I drop you,” Juno said, waving the gun to make his point. The hand was obviously new to this, they were shaking, eyes wide, face pale. He almost felt bad for them. “I told you to drop it, now drop it!” His raised voice seemed to startle them out of their shock. They dropped the bag with a thump on the ground. Juno switched his blaster to stun. “Sorry about this.” He pulled the trigger and waited for to make sure the kid wasn’t moving before he collected the bag and started walking. After he’d made it a few blocks and his breathing had eased, he fished his coms out of his pocket and casually called Peter. 

 

“Do you have the bag?” Peter asked as soon as he picked up. Juno schooled his face into the picture of calm. 

 

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, not wanting to draw attention, “you home yet?” He could hear the small sounds of pain that Peter was making. 

 

“On my way.” Peter replied through gritted teeth. 

 

“How’s your leg?” He asked. 

 

“Oh you know,” Nureyev didn’t elaborate, so Juno knew that it was bad. 

 

“Get home safe, babe,” Juno said, “I’m almost there myself.” Vespa was waiting a few blocks away, sitting in the safe house that he was to go to. Peter was no doubt headed towards Rita, and it pained Juno that he would have to wait a few hours before seeing him. Even so, he mumbled a goodbye and hung up his coms, not wanting to distract Peter any further. 

 

It was seven hours before he ended up seeing him again. He was back on the ship, the ruby safely deposited to Buddy, and as soon as he was allowed, he made for the medical bey. 

 

Rita was sitting in the armchair next to the only bed in the bey, tapping away at her coms. 

 

“Boss! You won’t  _ believe  _ how amazing Mr. Glass was! He walked all the way back to the ship with a broken knee! And he didn’t even show it!” Juno smiled and gave Rita a hug. “And gosh, we just missed you both so much all week, it was so weird! Well, you’re both so loud and-“ 

 

“We’re loud?” Peter grumbled from his bed. 

 

“-and I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that, and it was just so lonely and all!” 

 

“Glad to be back, Rita.” Juno said as he tried to untangle himself from Rita’s arms. “And now I’d like to breathe please.” Rita complied and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek before turning and kissing Nureyev’s too. A soft blush dusted across his features. 

 

“I’ll just leave you and your bo, boss, it's just so good to have you back, so get some sleep and hydrate a little, okay, I love you, bye!” Rita waved as she skittered out of the room. 

 

“Love you too,” Juno laughed. Peter’s hand found his, tugging on his fingers to drag him closer. Juno complied, bent to press a kiss against Nureyev’s forehead. His fingers were warm as they trailed against Juno’s jaw. 

 

“You’re freezing,” he said, placing his hands on either side of Juno’s cheeks. “How long were you out in the cold without a jacket?” Juno could hear Peter’s hidden mother hen begin to take over and he chuckled. 

 

“Not too long, I promise. I’ll get warm. I’m more worried about you right now.” Juno trailed his fingers along Nureyev’s thigh, not daring to near the knee that was propped up on a pillow and had bruises indicating an injection for quick bone regeneration. 

 

“Dislocation.” Peter said. “She managed to kick it in hard enough to shatter my knee cap. It also strained my ACL, so I doubt that Ninette Pavlov is going to be making an appearance anytime soon.” He looked forlorn at that. “It’s a shame. I missed dancing.” 

 

“You can always dance with me.” Juno said, “We both know I could use the practice. Benten would be aghast.” Peter laugh that soft, wonderful laugh that he reserved for those moments where all personas drifted away and he allowed himself to be, well, himself. 

 

“Come and lay down, you’ll need the body heat.” Peter tugged on his arm until Juno curled around him, a hand laid over Nureyev’s waist and the other hand trailing through his hair. 

 

“You haven’t asked about the ruby.” Juno said, kissing around Nureyev’s jaw. 

 

“I don’t need to.” He shifted. His eyes were closed, red stage makeup just barely cleaned from his face. He looked so at ease, so comfortable. Juno wanted to capture that look and keep it on his face forever. “I trust you.” 

 

That surge of emotion, the warm onslaught of feeling ran through him again and he captured Peter’s lips. Nureyev laughed into it but kissed back. 

 

“Kind of,” He whispered against Juno’s lips. He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. 

 

He was happy. God, he was so happy. He had known that he was on his way there for a while, but it was right then that he noticed. He was really, honest to god, truly happy. How wonderful was that? 

 

He fell asleep wrapped around Peter Nureyev, warm and healing. Peter Nureyev whose disappearing act was unlike anything that Juno had ever seen. Peter Nureyev whose reappearing act was twice as much so. Peter Nureyev who Juno was sure was going to save him, and Peter Nureyev who didn’t have to in the end. Peter Nureyev who came back. Peter Nureyev who trusted him. 

 

Kind of. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on tumblr as gayshitiguess.


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